Falling Down
by Myrana
Summary: Five years have passed and Sarah has moved on, but the Underground isn't finished with her just yet. As she faces new dangers, how will Jareth react to her return? Will he play the villain once more, or can a truce be made? M/F
1. The Play's The Thing

AN: This is my first Labyrinth fanfiction, and I'm trying to write a proper, epic sequel to the movie: a whole new adventure with our favourite old characters, with lots of plot and lots of mythology, hopefully a bit different to everything else already out there. Later in the story there will be some sexually explicit/violent scenes, which I will edit down to fit an M-rating - but these chapters will be marked, and if you wish to read the full, uncensored version, I'm also posting the story under the same name at AdultFF. I will update as quickly as possible whenever I can, but even if you may sometimes have to wait a while between chapters, I promise that the story will not be abandoned!

I'd really appreciate any feedback people could give me, even if it's just one line to let me know you're liking the story so far. As I said, this is my first piece of Labyrinth writing, and I'm always going to be worried that I'm not doing the characters justice, so any criticism is welcome! I have read the "_Return to Labyrinth_" manga sequel, and whilst I will make vague references to certain parts of it and take some of its ideas onboard, I'm pretty much discarding it for this story, as I consider the 'manga-verse' and 'movie-verse' Labyrinths to be separate.

I do not own "_Labyrinth_" or any of its characters, and I make no money from this piece of fiction. I hope you enjoy the story - and don't forget to let me know what you think!

--

**FALLING DOWN**

**CHAPTER 1: THE PLAY'S THE THING**

At last the lights dimmed, and a sudden hush spread quickly through the audience as programmes were folded, conversations finished with rapid whispers, and people shuffled down into their seats. The black velvet curtains could hardly be made out in the dark except for the odd rustling movement, as though they too were preparing themselves for the performance. The air was taut with anticipation, and the people hardly dared breathe for fear of somehow breaking the magic.

Then, in the distance, there was the dim sound of a bird calling. Wind rustling through trees, crickets chirping, yet more birds, but the heavy silence remained in the background, making the noises seem almost fragile. The sound of dawn. A faint light could be seen through a thin gap in the curtains, which steadily illuminating the theatre as they drew back to reveal the stage.

The audience looked upon vast gates carved out of stone, which led to a magnificent palace. In the distance, the city it watched over seemed to spread out for miles, gradually fading into fields and forests. Nobody was there, but there was the sound of footsteps drawing closer.

A young woman strode into view. Eager murmurs from the crowd greeted her, but she seemed oblivious. The golden diadem that rested on her thick black hair marked her out as royalty – but that much could have been easily guessed without a crown. Everything about her seemed to suggest power: her straight stance, the slight tilt to her head, the cool confidence in her eyes. Moments later another girl walked on-stage; younger, also pretty, also clearly royal, but the audience found that they could not tear their eyes away from the first princess.

"_Dear, dear Ismene! My poor sister!_" The first girl clasped her the second by the arms, and then hugged her fiercely. "_So far we have tasted sadness, destruction, disgrace and dishonour. And now our uncle, King Creon, has stunned the whole city with this new law of his. Do you understand what it means? Do know what shame this new law will bring upon our brothers?_"

"_No, Antigone_," Ismene shook her head within her sister's embrace. "_What is it? I've heard nothing of our brothers, not since that day when we were robbed of both of them._"

"_I thought so,_" Antigone nodded in agreement, taking Ismene by the hand and pulling her to a dark corner of the stage. Her voice dropped to a low whisper, and the audience shuddered in dread of what she was about to say. "_That's why I've brought you out here, Ismene; to tell you secretly and alone._"

"_What is it, Antigone? I can see that there's something deep and dreadful in your words!_"

"_The burial of our brothers, Ismene! Creon has decreed that one may be buried in all honours, but the other is not to be buried at all! He has buried Eteocles in all proper rites and ceremonies, fully preparing him for the world below, but our other brother, Polyneices, who died a death just as horrible, is left unburied and unmourned! Left alone, to be food for the starving ravens of the sky! And if someone dares to disobey this decree, he or she will face death by public stoning!_" She swallowed roughly to stop herself from raising her voice, reigning in her anger and looking around anxiously, though her hands still shook with rage. "_We cannot shame our family like this. Ismene, now is the time to show that you are truly worthy of your birth!"_

"_But, Antigone, if things have gone this far, what can I do? How could I possibly help?"_

"_We can think and act together._"

"_What? Antigone, what are you up to? What dangerous thing have you got in mind now?_"

Slowly, Antigone relaxed her clenched right fist into an open palm, which she held out to her sister. "_Ismene, help this hand to lift our brother's corpse!_"

_"It's against the will of the city, the will of the King!_" Ismene visibly grew paler with terror.

"_He's our brother, Ismene! Yours and mine! I will never give people cause to say that I betrayed him!_"

"_My poor sister! You're going to bury our brother against the King's wishes?_"

A quick nod confirmed it. Ismene gasped, but Antigone smiled grimly, her eyes bright with purpose. The audience knew that they had never seen anybody more beautiful. If the young woman had not won them over before, in that one fierce gesture she utterly captivated them beyond release. She was proud, reserved, and yet so passionate, so strong... her plight had their hearts in an instant. They were powerless in her presence. Looking out at some distant ghost of hope, seeing through the palace, through the doubters, through all that stood in her way, she seemed unstoppable.

"_The King has no right at all to separate me from my own brother. None whatsoever!_"

They were under her spell.

--

A little less than two hours later and the audience were on their feet, joined in a standing ovation. They wiped their eyes, they clapped, they shouted out plaudits to the cast who were gathering on-stage to take their final bow. The soldiers, the slaves, Teiresias, Haemon, Creon, Ismene, everybody was there but one...

"There she is!"

The cheer swelled and doubled in volume as the heroine took her place in the line. The spell was broken now, and they did not see Antigone, but the actress who had played her. She was smiling, biting back laughter at the overwhelming reception, even though her cheeks were still stained with tears from her final, tragic scene.

"...she's really something, isn't she?"

"...completely believable... I was crying!"

"...the best production I've seen in..."

"...that scene where she confronted the King..."

"...amazing, really, and she..."

"...how did she _do_ that..."

"...couldn't take my eyes off of..."

"...she _was_ Antigone..."

It didn't take a genius to work out what the opening night reviews would be like in the papers tomorrow. "_ANTIGONE_ A TRIUMPH", "A ROYAL PERFORMANCE", "STUDENT PRODUCTION WORLD CLASS", "WILLIAMS WOWS AS TRAGIC HEROINE", "BEST _ANTIGONE_ SINCE ANCIENT ATHENS", "LIKE MOTHER, LIKE DAUGHTER: A STAR IS BORN".

As the cast took their third and final bow the curtains fell once more, and the audience began to file out of their seat. Many of them slipped out to wait by the back door, in the hopes of an autograph. The theatre was noisy with movement and excited chatter, too loud to hear the sounds of the one solitary spectator who was still applauding. In the shadows of one of the private boxes, the dim outline of a figure could just be made out. Whoever it was, they were languishing carelessly in a chair, feet propped up on the edge of the balcony, still clapping slowly for the players. One player in particular.

"Bravo, Sarah," the masculine voice was little more than a whisper. "Bravo indeed."

And then, just like that, he was gone.

--

"Come on, Sarah, have another drink!"

"No, Alex, I'm fine, really-"

"You should be celebrating!"

Seeing that there was no getting out of this, Sarah smiled and accepted another glass of champagne from her friend. The after-party was in full swing, even though it was now the early hours of the next morning, and she found herself right in the middle of it. She wasn't exactly used to the attention, but she wasn't going to complain - Alex was right, it was a celebration! The play had been exhausting but exhilarating, and she was in awe of how well it had been received. Her cheeks were still flushed from the curtain call, and she doubted all the alcohol in the world could make her more lightheaded than she had felt in that moment.

But, that said... the more champagne she drunk, the harder she found it to concentrate on the conversation, and everything was fast becoming a blur . Muttering something about going to the bathroom she quietly slipped away from her group of friends, and found a corner in the empty next room. She needed a moment to herself, and it was quieter here, the loud music of the party muffled. Leaning back against the wall she sunk down to the floor with a sigh, a grin still wide on her face, crystal glass in her hand. She couldn't believe this was really happening.

In the final year of high school, her father and step-mother had showered her with prospectuses from dozens of colleges, even a few from the Ivy League. She had good grades and a sharp mind, and had lost her tendency to daydream in lessons. Everybody seemed to assume she would apply for a Liberal Arts degree and study literature, and then train to be a teacher, perhaps even a professor. Sarah agonised over the decision for months. Not so very long ago she would not have cared about college at all, and would have been content to let her family make all the hard decisions for her. But Sarah Williams had grown up, and she decided to follow her dreams. Not the make-believe dreams of a child, but the real dreams of a young woman who knew exactly what she wanted to do with her life. And so, one night at dinner, she announced that she was applying to a prestigious drama school in New York.

Weeks of arguments followed.

Did she know what she was giving up? Did she know what she could achieve if she only put her mind to it? What about Yale, what about Penn? What about that nice liberal arts college only an hour's drive away? Acting was a hobby, not a career! How was she going to support herself during her studies? How was she going to support herself _after_ her studies? How would they pay the fees? Would she even be accepted? Did she know how competitive those schools were? Did she know what kind of reputation they had? And, after one particularly vicious row with Irene: "You're going to end up just like your mother!"

Surprisingly, it was Sarah's mother who saved the day. After several years of little-to-no contact, Sarah had written to the woman she had once blindly idolised, explaining her problems. Two months later she got a response, in a tattered letter sent from somewhere in Europe, where Linda Williams (she had kept the surname for professional purposes) was currently on tour. Yes, she knew some people on the admissions board at the drama school, and yes, she'd be more than happy to pull a few strings to organise funding for her daughter!

Triumphant, Sarah had presented the letter to her family, and they had to accept that she was serious about "this acting thing". True to her word, Linda sorted out the money through her contacts in a few charitable organisations, and she put in a good word for her daughter at the school (not that Sarah needed it, as she passed her audition with flying colours). Whilst Irene still pursed her lips in disapproval, her father resolved to be supportive. And Toby, her little brother, was perhaps even more excited than Sarah was; he insisted on helping her practice, reading plays with her, acting out scenes in the garden. He completely adored his step-sister. Sarah had always doted on him - at least, she had done ever since she rescued him from the Lab...

...Sarah shook her head, and took another sip of her drink. Now was not the time to think about that.

After what seemed like decades of waiting, Sarah had finally arrived in the Big Apple, and immediately threw herself into her work. It wasn't only practical courses in acting, singing and dancing - there were plenty of texts to reads and essays to write, and she found most of her spare time was spent in libraries. At the end of her second year, audition sign-up sheets were pasted around the campus for a big student production: "_Antigone_", an Ancient Greek tragedy written by Sophocles. Sarah thought she'd never heard of anything drearier in her life - but then she read the script. The story told of a desperate young princess, struggling to rescue her brother's body from a cruel King. When she read it, she couldn't help but think of Toby.

She auditioned the next day, and the director was bowled over. One moment a pretty, friendly girl was standing before him, and the next she was a royal lady, cold and beautiful and heartbreaking. Even though she'd just turned twenty, Sarah was already undeniably an extremely talented actress. She had a gift at putting herself into another person's shoes, not merely imitating them, but _becoming_ them, with every word and gesture. He called her the next morning to tell her she had the part.

Countless rehearsals later, and here they were. Opening night a triumph, not a single forgotten line, applause and congratulations all around - and this was only her first leading role. The first of many, she dared to hope. There was nothing like it in the world, the way adrenaline mixed with raw emotion as you walked on-stage, the way you could make a room of hundreds of people laugh or cry with words alone. It was hard work, not the non-stop glamorous party she had pictured as a teenager, but it was worth it.

"Sarah?"

She looked up, startled, but relaxed when she saw that it was only Alex. He was one of her best friends, who she'd met not long after arriving in New York. He'd taken the part of Haemon in the play, Antigone's betrothed, and so they had spent a lot of time together over the last few months. He had unruly, sandy-blonde hair that always seemed to flop over his face, giving him a boyish look, a nice smile, blue eyes - definitely attractive. But as Sarah got to know him she liked him for yet more reasons, like how he was always singing and dreamed of Broadway, or how he could make a sarcastic jibe at anything, or make you feel valued with just a few kind words...

"You okay?"

"I'm fine, just a little tired," she smiled as she moved to stand up again.

"Here, let me give you a hand-" Alex pulled her to her feet like she weighed almost nothing. "I think the party's finishing up now. Want me to walk you back to your apartment?"

Normally, Sarah would protest that she was perfectly capable of walking herself home, _thank you very much_. But she liked Alex, she really did. He was nice. He was _normal_. He enjoyed the same things she did. He made her feel safe, and was never anything but a perfect gentleman. So, rather than refuse him, she simply nodded, still smiling.

They spoke very little during the walk, but the silence was never awkward. It was comfortable, and comforting. Alex continued his role as the gentleman, not even moving in for a kiss as they reached her door, just saying a polite goodnight.

Sarah watched him walk away until he had quite disappeared, and then turned into her apartment, shutting the door behind her. Her head was still spinning, but she felt like laughing for joy. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt this happy. She threw herself onto her bed, still wearing her dress, kicking her high-heeled shoes onto the floor, and was fast asleep less than a minute later. For the first night in a long time, not one second of her dreams was filled with fairies, dwarves, goblins, or endless mazes. Anyone who saw her curled up would say that she looked peaceful.

Unfortunately for Sarah, though she couldn't know it, this peace was not going to last for long.

--

AN: The text for "_Antigone_" is adapted from the 2006 translation by George Theodoridis.


	2. From Good To Worse

**CHAPTER 2: FROM GOOD TO WORSE**

"Sarah-freakin'-Williams, would you get _up_ already?"

Sarah opened her eyes blearily and rubbed her forehead, getting that disorientated, muggy feeling one has when you've slept either far too little or far too much. Where _was_ she? She looked up above her, focusing on the ceiling. _Her_ ceiling. Right - she was in her bed, in her New York apartment. But who was-

Before she could finish that thought, a pillow hurtled across the room, hitting her squarely in the face, accompanied by a cry of: "_Sarah!_" Sitting upright, Sarah grimaced at the young woman standing at the end of her bed, and managed a half-hearted wave. "Morning, Holly."

"Morning?!" Holly was incredulous, "It's one in the afternoon! What were you drinking last night?" She continued exclaiming in much the same sort of style as she yanked the bedsheets off of Sarah, drew the curtains, turned on the kettle and the radio in the small kitchen next door, and generally woke up the apartment with as much noise as possible. Sarah let it wash over her - after two years of living with Holly she was more than used to it. In fact, a week didn't seem complete without her roommate bursting in at least once and forcibly dragging her out of bed.

"You've got mascara all down your face, girl. You look like a fucking panda."

Sarah rolled her eyes, "_Thanks_, Holly."

"Don't mention it. Here," Holly tossed a packet of make-up remover pads at her friend, "don't forget: cleanse, tone and _moisturise_ _twice a day_. You're not going to be a leading lady again if you turn into some wrinkly old granny."

Obediently cleaning off what was left of last night's make-up from her face, Sarah suddenly remembered just why she was sleeping in such a state of disarray. Opening night! The memories of her performance flooded back to her, and she couldn't contain the grin on her face. Holly plonked a chipped mug of coffee on the bedside table beside Sarah, and emptied a plastic bag of - newspapers? - onto the bed, nodding to the collection with a smile. "So, according to these, you were the shit last night."

"Holly, are those _reviews_?!"

"I grabbed them this morning. Don't say I'm not good to you," she glanced at her watch, and then began to walk out of the room as quickly as she had first entered, blowing a kiss as she left through a side-door in the kitchen to her own half of the apartment. "I've gotta go check on Emily, be back in five, okay? Drink your coffee, princess."

Trying hard to contain her nervous jitters at the thought of real reviews, Sarah resolved to leave the papers until she was a little more awake. Adjusting her green shift-dress (which was hardly appropriate night-wear) as she sat on her bed, she drew up her knees and began to gingerly sip her coffee, wrinkling her nose a little at the taste - Holly always made it so strong, it was like drinking a jumbo espresso.

Still waking up, she allowed her thoughts to drift to her roommate. Holly Greaves was attending the same drama college as Sarah, although she was specialising in backstage work - designing costumes and sets, learning how to source props, coordinate lights, do make-up and hair, and so on. And, like Sarah, she was attending the college thanks to a charitable grant, hence the reason they had ended up sharing a room. Holly had dropped out of high-school at seventeen, after two months of missed periods had finally forced her to accept the obvious: she was pregnant. Her parents said they would be supportive whatever her decision, and eventually Holly decided to keep the baby, even though her boyfriend wanted nothing more to do with her. When Emily Greaves was born she looked just like her mother, from her dark brown eyes and hair to her olive complexion, and everyone agreed she was a beautiful baby.

But Holly - headstrong, fearless, and relentlessly foul-mouthed - was not the type to sit back and resign herself to a life of childcare. A few weeks after the birth she began to apply to every organisation she could think of who might be able to help her further her education, despite the fact she was lacking a high school diploma. After months of rejection most people would have given up, but Holly was relentless - and eventually she got the scholarship and grant she so needed.

Sarah remembered how when they first started living together she and Holly had fought like tooth and nail. Both of them had been rather spoiled when they were younger, and each hated the idea of sharing her personal space with a girl she hardly knew. Had it not been for baby Emily, they might still be fighting to this day.

Sarah's problem was that the longer she stayed in New York, the more she missed Toby. They had grown so close that, and she had spent so much time with him, that in many ways she had practically brought him up. She cringed at the thought of how badly she had treated him when he was younger. Now she missed the silliest things about him – like reading him stories, or peering in his room before she went to bed to check he was safe. And so, feeling restless, she volunteered to babysit Emily a few nights every week, so that Holly could go out.

Holly was incredibly thankful for the gesture, and surprised to finally find someone her own age who was used to the constant crying and demands of a young baby. Gradually the two girls began to spend more and more time together, and now the only term that could describe their relationship was 'best friends'. In such a short space of time, each had had a great influence on the other. Sarah found that Holly taught her to stand up for herself more, to be braver, and shed some of her childish immaturity about the real world. And the more time she spent with Sarah, the more Holly learnt to let down some of the walls she had put up during her pregnancy, and to trust people and make new friends once again. As for Emily, even though she could never replace her baby step-brother, Sarah doted on her until she felt like the baby was the little sister she never had.

Finishing her coffee, a much more alert Sarah pulled herself out of bed (muttering a small thank you to whoever discovered caffeine) and started to get dressed, hanging up her outfit from the night before and pulling on simple white t-shirt and pair of jeans, and, as an afterthought when she shivered slightly, her old black leather jacket. Brushing her long, dark hair vigorously, she tried to focus her attention on anything but the pile of newspapers. _It doesn't matter whether they say it's good or bad, it's only your first proper production, don't start freaking out..._ But try as she might she soon gave in, and pulled the first one from the heap, hastily flicking forward to the theatre section.

She stared, dumbfounded. It was... good. Really good. "_Antigone"_ was given four stars, and just a quick glance at the adjectives in the article ("_amazing_", "_surprising_", "_impressive_") could tell her that the critic thought the play a success. Quickly, she grabbed the next paper, and the next, and the next. It was unanimous. Of course, she told herself, none of these newspapers were the major dailies - the play was hardly on Broadway, or even _off_-Broadway, just a small three-night student production - but at that moment, Sarah couldn't have cared less. They liked the play. They liked her acting in the play. She felt untouchable.

But then, one headline caught her eye. "LIKE MOTHER, LIKE DAUGHTER: A STAR IS BORN". Curious, she unfolded the rest of the paper and began to read. It started much like the other pieces, congratulating the cast on a surprisingly strong production, but then...

_"...the heroine, Antigone, played with striking talent by twenty-year-old Sarah Williams. Miss Williams is, of course, the daughter of eminent stage actress Linda Williams, who is currently based in Paris after a recent tour of Germany. Readers will doubtlessly remember her award-winning performance as Nina in last summer's Broadway production of 'The Seagull'. Just as famous for her personal life off-stage as her work on-stage, Miss Williams divorced her daughter's father some years ago to become engaged to her then co-star, Jeremy Jones, though the marriage ultimately did not take place, after gossip of infidelity on both sides. Her recent decision to move to Paris has added fuel to the rumours that she is currently dating French film-star..._"

Disgusted, Sarah crumpled the paper in her hand, and angrily looked back at the articles she had only skimmed over before. To her horror, she discovered much of the same in those pieces: _"daughter of Linda Williams...", "surely some of her talent must come from her mother, Linda Williams...", "the resemblance to her mother is striking...", "Linda Williams will be returning to New York in the spring for a new production...", "Linda Williams, a muse to countless directors and playwrights...", "Linda Williams was photographed last night at the famous nightclub...", "Linda Williams could not be found to comment on rumours of her being cast in a big-screen adaption of..."_ The name "Linda Williams" swum up in each and every review. "_Antigone"_ was warmly received, even praised, and Sarah's performance was congratulated by everyone, but it seemed her name could not be mentioned without sidetracking onto the latest news of her mother's antics.

Sarah didn't _hate_ her mother. After all, Linda had helped her get into drama college. But Sarah hadn't actually seen her for several years, and it had been months since their last brief, hurried, five-minute conversation on the phone. Sometimes Linda acted as though she didn't even have a daughter. When Sarah had been younger she had idolised her mother's glamorous adult world of fame - the parties, the alcohol, the private clubs, the money, the fabulous outfits - but now she saw it as the thing that had taken her mother away from her family. And now, as Sarah was making a career for herself, to be compared to her mother, held up against her, talked of almost as an after-thought to Linda's own fame...

"It's not fair!" Sarah cried out, pushing the papers away from her. "It's just... it's not fair!"

_But that's the way it is..._ Her mind seemed to whisper to her, but she shook her head fiercely. It wasn't fair, and she wasn't going to pretend to be happy about it. Was this what her life was going to be? An echo of her mother's? Not-quite as talented, not-quite as famous, everybody saying only she got roles because of her name, not her abilities? Blinking back tears, she grabbed her bag and keys, pulled on her shoes, and ducked into the next room to say a quick goodbye to Holly and Emily. She had some papers she needed to drop off on campus, and then she needed to go to the theatre to get ready for the second night (although, she thought glumly, there was little point in her performing at all). She'd walk rather than take a taxi – anything to keep her mind off of the unfairness that was her mother.

--

The main college building was practically deserted, with most of the students having already left for their summer holidays. The only ones remaining were in the play with Sarah, and were dropping off a few last minute essays, or grabbing forgotten books. A few who were in the chorus of "_Antigone_" waved excitedly at her from their lockers.

"Hey, Sarah, did you hear about Alex?"

"No," Sarah shook her head with a fond smile as she walked over to them. "What's that idiot done now?"

"He got his scholarship!"

"He got his... what?" To say that Sarah was confused was an understatement. Alex had never told her about any scholarship.

"Yeah, I didn't know about it either," one of the guys, Michael, grinned and shook his head. "He applied to this musical theatre academy in London without telling anybody. It's based in the West End - much more specialised than this place."

"And he heard from them this morning!" Adriana, a slight redhead, took up the story. "He's got a full scholarship to start training there next year! Isn't that amazing?"

Numbly, Sarah fixed her smile on her face. She was an actress, wasn't she? She wasn't going to let her disappointment show. "That's wonderful," she said. "I'll congratulate him this evening. See you guys at the theatre!"

Turning around she walked quickly out of the building and off the campus, trying for the second time that day not to cry. She and Alex had been getting along so well, and after he had walked her home last night, she thought that they were going to... She was happy for Alex, she really was, she knew that this was everything he had ever dreamed of, but to leave so suddenly, and without warning her first...

She spied an old tin can lying on the sidewalk in front of her and gave it a vicious kick, sending it spiralling off into an alley. "It's not _fair!_"

In her head, she was back in high school, three years ago. At seventeen she'd been dating her first serious boyfriend, Robert, and everything was going great. They got on well, they really liked each other, they'd even started talking about having sex - but then his dad was suddenly transferred to another country, and in a matter of weeks the rest of the family, including Robert, had moved overseas to join him. Sarah hadn't seen him since. And now Alex would be leaving as well... "Am I cursed or something?!" Sarah found herself shouting out to the thankfully-deserted street, as she flung her back against a brick wall, fists clenched.

She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself. Okay, this had been a really shitty day. But what was it that Holly always said? _"When life gives you lemons, you squirt lemon juice in life's fucking eyes." _It wasn't fair. It wasn't even a little bit fair. But...

"That's just the way it is," Sarah whispered to herself. "That's just the way it is." She repeated it over and over like a mantra. It wasn't fair, but there was nothing she could do about it by complaining. That wouldn't solve anything. She'd learnt that much in the Labyrinth-

She let out a frustrated sigh, and pushed her head back against the wall. She had to stop thinking about the Labyrinth! Pulling herself together, she straightened her jacket, and continued walking to the theatre. The only thing she could do was carry on.

Just because the papers were more interested in her mother than her, it didn't mean she should stop putting everything into the play. Letting down the rest of the cast and the audience wouldn't solve anything. Holly was coming tonight, having found another babysitter - didn't her best friend's opinions matter more to her than those of some second-rate theatre critics? And as for Alex... Sarah knew what a hard decision it was to follow your dreams at the expense of a relationship. Hadn't she left behind Toby to come to New York? She couldn't blame Alex, and there was no point in moping about it.

So, as she entered the theatre, in spite of everything, Sarah resolved to give the play her all in the penultimate show. People who had known her as a teenager would be surprised. In spite of everything, she was finally acting like a mature adult. Who would have thought it?

--

AN: Another introductory chapter, but don't worry, things kick off in the next instalment! I hope you're all enjoying my portrayal of Sarah - I'm trying to make it as realistic as possible, and tie it into the film as much as I can. For example, I gave Jeremy (who, as any die-hard fan knows, is portrayed by David Bowie in a photograph in the film) David Bowie's original surname... Jones!

A big thank you to those of you who were kind enough to review the first chapter, favourite the story, or add it to your alerts. Don't forget to let me know your thoughts on this update!


	3. The Storm Approaches

**CHAPTER 3: THE STORM APPROACHES**

It was a matter of days later, and the play was over and done with. It was always going to have been a short production, little more than a showcase of the talent the college had to offer - but even so, it had gone faster than Sarah ever expected, and she felt oddly empty now that it was over. At first she'd just missed the acting itself, and the applause and smiles of the audience, but now she longed for the little things most of all - crabby rehearsals at ungodly hours of the morning and night, the coffee machine that always broke down, the in-jokes the cast had about each other. Now that it was over all their hard work, all the new relationships that had been formed back-stage... just seemed to dissolve into memory. To make things worse, Alex had left the country after the final show, flying to England to make the arrangements for his scholarship. So, with school out for the summer and no more play to keep her occupied, Sarah took to moping around the apartment, a not-so-pretty picture in old pyjamas and messy hair, feeling very listless and generally downbeat about the world.

"It's the post-play blues, babe," Holly had said, matter-of-factly, the morning after Sarah's last performance. "It's like post-partum depression for actors, or something. It happens to everyone. Give it a couple of days and you'll quit the godawful Sylvia Plath act. Just don't go throwing yourself into any rivers, okay?"

"It was Virginia Woolf who drowned herself," Sarah commented, poking idly in her bowl of cereal with her spoon. "Sylvia Plath used the gas from her oven."

"What-the-fuck-ever, Sarah, they were both melodramatic arty types with too much time on their hands. Just put some real clothes on, take a walk, see that the world's still turning, and you'll feel one-hundred-and-ten-percent better. Trust."

Holly proceeded to make the same suggestion several times during the days that followed, until eventually, refusing to take anymore excuses, she frogmarched Sarah out of the front door and locked it behind her, telling her to come back when she didn't look like she'd stepped out of "some fourteen-year-old's angsty cutting poetry". Fuming, Sarah stalked off in the direction of Central Park and after a few hours spent there, she grudgingly admitted it to herself: Holly was right. Seeing that the world went on after the play was incredibly refreshing. She'd poured so much of herself into the role of Antigone that it was hard to think of anything but Greek tragedy - but watching kids playing on swings and old couples walking their cocker spaniels made her realise that there was (melodramatic as it sounded) life after the final curtain call.

"See," Holly was triumphant when Sarah returned to the apartment early that evening, looking much more cheerful than when she had left, "I told you. I should be a motherfucking psychologist or something, I swear. You doing anything tonight?"

"No, no plans," Sarah answered, remembering how testy she used to get when her parents asked her the same question as a teenager. "I was just going to stay in. I've got to sort out all those newspaper cuttings." She hadn't actually read any reviews since the shock of the Linda-Williams-centric articles from the first night, but she'd forced herself to keep the papers anyway, for posterity's sake.

"Do you think you could babysit Emily for me? I've got a date. Michael, you know, from the chorus?"

"Michael?" Sarah grinned. It was rare that she had the chance to tease her roommate, so she took every chance he got. "He's sort of sweet. I thought you didn't go for pretty boys?"

"Fuck you," her roommate stuck out her tongue. "But seriously, could you keep an eye on her? It's a-okay if you don't want to, I can still call in somebody from the babysitting agency..."

"As if I'd let you," Sarah feigned mock insult. "When it comes to babysitting, I'm a world-class pro. I'd love to look after her for the night, Holly - it's been ages, with the play and everything."

"_Thank you_," Holly launched herself at her friend, grabbing her in a sudden hug... before noticing the time on the kitchen clock and letting out a small yelp of surprise. "Shit, I've got to get ready!"

--

Sarah found putting Emily to bed strangely relaxing. Or perhaps it wasn't so strange. After all, it was an old routine that she'd been doing with Toby since she was just fifteen. Bathing Emily, towelling her dry, changing her into her little cotton pyjamas, heating up warm milk, putting her in her crib with her favourite toy - a stuffed baby-blue elephant, who went by the name of Mister Jumbo. Emily was a sweet, placid baby, not generally given to crying or making a fuss. At two years old she could speak a little, but she seemed content to silently daydream most of the time, staring into space with her huge brown eyes.

"If only Toby had been half as good as you, Emmy, it would have saved me a lot of trouble," Sarah spoke to nobody in particular as she tucked the child in.

Emily pushed the blankets down a little, then stretched her arms up to Sarah, smiling expectantly. "Story, please!" She completely adored her Auntie Sarah, and it was in no small part due to the fact that she always told the best stories. Sometimes her mother would read to her out of one of her picture books, but Sarah never seemed to need any of them. She was able to reel off the most fantastic stories about princes and princesses and magical kingdoms without any help whatsoever, and in such a way that Emily was convinced every word Sarah spoke about mermaids or dragons was entirely true. And Emily had one favourite story in particular.

Sarah gave a hugely overdramatic sigh as she bent over the crib, making the little girl giggle. "And I can guess what story you want, can't I?"

Nodding vigorously as she was picked up and carried over to the armchair in the corner of the room, Emily knew exactly what to ask for. "Lab-ee-rin-se, please, Sarah!"

"The Labyrin_th_, right, how did I guess?" Sarah made herself comfortable in the chair, as she positioned Emily on her lap. "All right. But just this one story, and then we'll put you to bed, okay?" Seeing the girl mumble in agreement, Sarah closed her eyes, and cast her mind back to the story she knew so well. The familiar words flooded through her in an instant.

"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful young girl, whose stepmother always made her stay home with the baby," Sarah paused for a moment, to check that Emily was listening - and smiled at the sight of the little girl's rapt attention. "The young girl loved her brother very much, although she was tired of her step-mother's demands. But what no-one knew was that the King of the Goblins had fallen in love with the girl, and he had given her certain powers. So one night, when the girl was tired, and angry, and the baby would not stop crying, she foolishly called on the goblins for help..."

She carried on telling the story, barely needing to concentrate on what she was saying - although the words were different to those she had recited all those years ago. Now Sarah knew it was not the baby who had been a spoiled child, but the young girl. And she knew that, no matter what the girl in the story said or wished, she would fight anything that stood between her and her beloved brother. Sarah's experiences inside the Labyrinth had made her grow up, and now she could look on her fifteen-year-old self for what she truly had been - selfish, naive, immature.

_The Labyrinth..._ Sarah always tried her hardest not to think about it. Whenever it sprung to mind, she forced the thoughts out of her head.

It was a complicated situation. The Labyrinth had made her let go of childish thoughts and dreams, move forward in her life and become a young woman. She had felt liberated, and ready to embrace the real world and leave her fairy stories behind her.

But the problem was... she now knew for sure that the Labyrinth was _not_ just a fairy story. It was real, all of it, everything she had ever imagined - fairies, dwarves, the Underground Realm. Things really _did_ go bump in the night. And how could she embrace the real world if she knew her childhood fantasies were just as real? Was she supposed to delude herself into thinking that what was real was unreal in order to accept another real? It made her head hurt just thinking about it.

For a few years after the Labyrinth, Sarah had still continued to see Hoggle, Ludo and Sir Didymus. They would appear to her in her room when she was alone, she would sometimes see them waving at her from inside a mirror, and when she fell asleep they would meet her in her dreams. But gradually the meetings had become fewer and fewer. She began to only see them when she was upset, or in need of reassurance. And then, as she started to turn to new friends at school for comfort, she saw her old companions even less. Eventually, she came to a hard decision. She couldn't be two people. She had once thought she would be able to take her childhood companions with her into adulthood - after all, most of her peers at school still had a favourite stuffed toy, or addressed their diaries with the name of an imaginary friend. But Sarah knew that her friends were different. They were _not_ imaginary. And she couldn't live in their world and her world at the same time.

So, she tried her best to forget her adventures, shutting away her old toys, and forcing herself not to see Hoggle or the others again. Instead she began to tell the story of the Labyrinth to Toby, in the hope that, somehow, her friends would keep watch over her brother instead of her. And now, she had taken to telling the story to Emily. It was the only time she allowed herself to access those memories. Most nights figures from the Underground haunted her dreams, but she never looked at them or spoke with them. It was hard, but she had made her decision and chosen her path. _This_ world was the world for her, and although the Labyrinth would always be a part of her, and although she knew it had all been real, she would tell herself over and over again that now it was nothing but a story.

Speaking of stories...

"...and with those words, the spells of the Goblin King were broken. The girl had defeated him, and after saying farewell to her valiant friends, she and her brother were transported back to their home. And the girl grew to love her brother more than ever, and she never called upon the goblins or saw one of the fair folk ever again. And many years later..."

Sarah looked down at little Emily, now fast asleep in her arms.

"...Many years later, the girl moved to New York City to start a new life, and shared an apartment with a brave young woman who couldn't cook for peanuts, and her adorable daughter. And they lived happily ever after. The end."

As she finished speaking, the room felt very silent all of a sudden, that sort of echoey-silence that you can feel right down in your bones. She could only hear Emily's steady, sleeping breaths, the beating of her own heart, the faint sound of rain outside the window. Even the New York traffic seemed to have faded to a distant hum.

Suddenly, Sarah felt very tired, and more than that, very lonely.

Careful not to break the peace she had created, she carried Emily to her crib, and gently drew the blankets over her. Yawning a little, she returned to the armchair and curled up in it. She didn't want to go back to her bedroom, all on its own - and it wasn't as if her roommate was around to keep her company. After all, if everything went to plan, Holly wouldn't be back until tomorrow morning. Drawing a cushion to her chest for warmth, Sarah allowed her eyelids to grow heavy.

As she began to drift into blackness, images flashed through her mind. A maze, twisting and turning to everywhere and nowhere. Fireflies that, on closer inspection, had tiny human bodies. Peaches and crystals. Wincing, she rubbed her forehead, trying to wipe the thoughts away. Most nights, if she found she was beginning to dream of the Labyrinth, she would force herself to get up, make some coffee, and try and do some work until she slept dreamlessly from exhaustion. But tonight she was too tired.

The images returned as she closed her eyes again, and with only a little resistance, she let them take her into sleep.

--

Nothing could be heard now but the rain pelting against the window. All was still and unmoving, the room frozen like some sort of tableau.

And then Sarah shifted her head slightly, her lips parted, and the smallest whisper escaped from her dreams.

_"Jareth..."_

With that, the room was silent once again.

In the distance, far above the New York skyline, a beat of thunder rumbled.

--

As the night wore on, the storm doubled in power. Soon gale-force winds forced their way through the New York streets, unheard of at this time of summer. Lightning flashed ominously close to the high-rise apartments and penthouses of millionaires, whilst miles below people hurried to find shelter from the heavy rain, occasionally slipping in the water that rolled like rivers down the sidewalks. And all the while the thunder could be heard in the background, a constant growling occasionally rising to an almighty groan, like some kind of wild animal.

And Sarah slept.

One block of power went out, then another. All the lights in the apartment were instantly gone. Outside, cars honked their horns desperately from behind faulty traffic lights, trying in vain to be heard above the noise of the storm.

And Sarah still slept.

Then, there was a strange tapping. At first it sounded like nothing more than a stray tree branch beating against the window. Then it became something else, as though somebody was scrabbling frantically at the glass - animal or human, it was impossible to say. One minute the latch was firmly shut, the next the window was swinging open, the creak of disuse impossible to make out against the rain.

Sarah slept without making a single noise, so unmoving and pale in her chair that she almost looked dead.

Lightning illuminated the room, showing strange, moving shadows that had not been there before.

Emily rolled over in her crib.

There were odd whispers and low noises in the air, which may or may not have been the wind.

In dark corners and crevices, things seemed to move.

Sarah slept on.

The lightning flashed once more...

And all that could be made out in the crib were crumpled blankets, and a stuffed blue elephant. The white bedsheets seemed stark, the bed hollow.

Emily was nowhere to be seen.

She was gone.

--

AN: Poor Emily! What will happen to her? More importantly, what will Sarah do about it? Things are hotting up... You'll have to endure the suspense until I can finish writing the next chapter...

From my hit counter I can tell that several people have been viewing the story - so thank you very much to all of you for reading! I hope you're enjoying my version of Sarah, and you're liking the OCs I've created. As ever, reviews of any kind, positive or negative, would be greatly appreciated. Until next time!


	4. Come Away, O Human Child

**CHAPTER 4: COME AWAY, O HUMAN CHILD**

_She's running. She runs so fast that her feet barely touch the ground, pelting round corners, never looking back, struggling to keep her balance as the world seems to waver from side to side. It's dark as pitch, but she doesn't stop to wonder why she isn't tripping over. She can't stop. That would be suicide._

_Behind her, matching her pace, the thing that chases her growls, and lets out a terrible groan._

_Another corner turned, and there's another swerve from the world around her, sending a wave of dizziness like a punch to her head. She's in a building now, and it's familiar to her, but she can't put a name to it - rows of lockers on either side of the corridor she's racing down, shoes squeaking as they hit the floor... One locker is open, and there's a strange noise coming from it, like somebody crying..._

_No time to comfort whatever it is. There's another noise now, a tiny pattering, like a hundred dripping taps. And then a clicking noise and a creak behind her - is it the locker? But it sounds like something opening, not closing._

_A flash of white light, and the world changes again. She's outside, racing through the city streets, ducking through alleyways and holes in fences. All the buildings have wide windows, and she knows that someone is watching her through them, clapping for her..._

_With the sixth sense of the hunted, she knows her pursuer is catching up._

_The towering buildings that trap her shrink in size until they are gone altogether, melting away into dark green. She's in a forest, and in the corner of her eyes she can see strange and familiar creatures. They wave at her, but she can't stop. The trees double in number, then triple, and branches scratch at her face as stray leaves block her vision._

_The thing is so close to her now that it might be her shadow, her dark half. She's panicking. With her every frantic heartbeat, the world seems to shiver. Now there's nothing before her but black, and she finally stops running. Should she throw herself into the darkness? She's hyperventilating, indecisive..._

_The thing makes the decision for her. Somehow, without touching her, it gives an almighty push, and she falls. She's plummeting, and reaching out for something to hold, but there are no vines, no roots, no hands. (Hands? Why would there be hands?) Falling down, down, and bile rises in her throat as she knows that, sooner or later, she's going to hit the bottom and-_

Sarah woke with a sudden gasp for air, her hands gripping the edge of the seat as she struggled for breath, still disorientated. But slowly her vision came into focus, and she realised that she was awake, alive, and still in Emily's bedroom.

She had only just calmed herself down when the thunder crashed once again, and almost gave her a heart attack. Closing her eyes, she worked on steadying her breathing - or "finding her inner calm", as all those self-help articles in trashy magazines would put it. Opening them again, she carefully took in her surroundings, reassuring herself that everything was okay, and she was safe. But something was strange...

Lightning flared outside, filling the room with white-blue light, and Sarah realised what had been bugging her.

"The curtains. I closed the curtains..."

But they were wide open, both of them, the white material looking eerie in the light of the storm, the true extent of which Sarah could now see through the rain-splattered glass. Rising from the armchair, she began to walk towards the window, her brow furrowed - something still wasn't right. A thought flashed through her mind: that creak in her dream. Was it the window?

No, it couldn't have been. Sarah examined the latch, and it was in its proper place, the window shut tight. With a sigh of relief, she placed her hands on the windowsill, looking out at the tumultuous sky.

And then she froze.

The windowsill was wet. Looking down, she saw that the wood was splattered with raindrops, a few of them even dripping down onto the carpet. The window had been opened during the storm, and then shut again - and not by her.

In the distant sky, thunder rumbled. Gripped by a sudden terror, Sarah turned around, and fixed her gaze on Emily's crib. A sense of déjà vu flooded over her as she slowly began to move towards where she had left the baby girl. For a moment, she was fifteen years old again, in Toby's bedroom, petrified by the sudden silence of her brother. But it was different now, wasn't it? She was different. She wouldn't be afraid.

"I'm not afraid," she whispered to herself, though her eyes were wide and her breathing quick and shallow. "I'm not afraid."

There was no movement in the crib. The blankets were arranged in a rumpled heap, Emily's toy elephant peeking out from underneath them. Sarah willed herself to be quiet as she reached out, willed herself not to scream. Biting her lip so hard she could taste blood she grasped the covers and, with a deep breath, yanked them back, unable to stop a gasp escaping her-

As she saw Emily, fast asleep, just as she had left her.

Sarah couldn't quite believe it. She had been so certain that she was going to find the bed bare, just as she had done with Toby's bed all those years ago. That goblins would laugh at her from all the corners of her room, that something, some_one_, would beat at the window, that she would find herself once again thrown into a quest to save an innocent baby from a life in the Underground...

"I must be going crazy," she muttered as she rearranged the blankets over Emily. Without really thinking what she was doing, she stroked her hand against the child's hair, smoothing it back behind her ears. And then, glancing down, she pulled her hand back like it had been burnt.

Emily's ears were pointed.

_Pointed._

Sarah couldn't take her eyes away from them, and her mouth was literally open in shock. It wasn't a trick of the light. The ears were as they had always been at the bottom, but at the top... delicate, little points. And, as Sarah traced the baby's skin, she noticed something else. Emily had always been a dark child, but now her complexion was not merely olive, but much deeper - almost a nut-brown.

"It _can't_ be," Sarah's voice was hoarse. "It doesn't work like this." This wasn't what was supposed to happen. This wasn't what the Goblin King was supposed to do.

_Things change,_ a little voice in her head told her. And in an instant, Sarah's eyes were narrowed with determination, her mouth set in a firm line. This was a different game, was it? Well, she had changed as well, and she wasn't a confused, naive, spoilt teenager anymore. She wasn't going to let this happen. She would find a way to fix this. And she knew just where to look.

--

Scrabbling under her bed, coughing at the dust from two years of not vacuuming properly, Sarah's hands finally found what she was looking for. Grabbing the handles of the trunk she pulled with all her might, falling back to the floor when it was finally removed from its hiding place. Quickly, she was on her knees and fumbling at the padlock, though her shaking hands meant it took longer than usual to enter the combination (which was, of course, her step-brother's birthday). With the numbers finally in place the padlock opened with a click, and after dropping it to the floor she flung open the lid, looking with trepidation at the objects of her most secret collection.

She had grown up, but she had been unable to part with everything. Instead she had simply chosen to lock her memories away - literally, in this case. All of the books from her childhood were here: the stories, the collections of mythology, the illustrated poems. And there were other things as well, like some of her dressing-up costumes, the shirt she had worn in the Labyrinth, the music box that played a song she knew so well... her fingers itched to wind it up, but she managed to resist. Instead she began delving into the depths of the trunk, hurriedly placing unneeded items on the floor. Finding what she was looking for, a book, she drew it up close to her face, tracing the golden title with her fingers.

"_Encyclopaedia of Faerie_".

Hurriedly, she flicked through the pages until she found what she was looking for, a section of the book that began with several poems, the first by Charlotte Mew. Willing herself to concentrate, Sarah focused on the opening stanza.

_Toll no bell for me, dear Father, dear Mother,  
__Waste no sighs;  
__There are my sisters, there is my little brother  
__Who plays in the place called Paradise,  
__Your children all, your children for ever;  
__But I, so wild,  
__Your disgrace, with the queer brown face, was never,  
__Never, I know, but half your child!_

As she read, Sarah could already begin to feel it sweeping over her - the knowledge she had cultivated in her younger years. She had devoured everything she could about fairy tales. In school she flunked math, but she could tell you the difference between a brownie and a pixie, or to banish a redcap. To tell the truth, Sarah was a little disappointed at how easily she was returning to this mindset, but given the circumstances she was also grateful. By now she had finished the first poem, and was working through others, murmuring the words under her breath.

_"The child is not mine as the first was,  
__I cannot sing it to rest,  
__I cannot lift it up fatherly  
__And bless it upon my breast;  
__Yet it lies in my little one's cradle  
__And sits in my little one's chair,  
__And the light of the heaven she's gone to  
__Transfigures its golden hair..."_

_"Why with spells my child caressing,  
__Courting him with fairy joy;  
__Why destroy a mother's blessing,  
__Wherefore steal my baby boy?"_

_"I cross'd my brow and I cross'd my breast,  
__But that night my child departed –  
__They left a weakling in his stead,  
__And I am broken-hearted..."_

Each poem was plaintive, tragic, and left Sarah feeling cold as ice. When she had first read these years ago, it had not dawned on her how terrible the idea of a changeling was. Now she knew the reality all too well, and she needed to find a way to reverse what had been done. At last, she found something useful - an actual description of changeling. Pointed ears, a complexion of earthy colours, like brown and dark green... that fitted.

"There must be some way to tell for sure..." The words were barely out of her mouth when she saw a line that said the hair of a changeling grew inhumanly fast. Quick as a flash, Sarah grabbed a pail of nail scissors from her dressing table, and hurried into Emily's bedroom.

She had hardly cut the lock from the girl's hair when, before her eyes, the little stump that was left began to wriggle, and slowly grow. It reminded her of a worm emerging from an apple. It stretched its way up from Emily's head, writhing into an unruly, messy curl as it did so. Sarah noticed with a start the rest of Emily's hair - before it had been in a short, boyish cut, and now it was nearly down to her shoulders.

This wasn't Emily. It looked a little like her, a darker copy, like a shadow of her, but it wasn't her. This wasn't human. This was a changeling. A fairy creature left in her place, while Emily had been spirited away to the Underground.

Sarah was so shocked that she lost her grip on the small pair of scissors. They tumbled out of her hand and, before she could stop them, landed flat on top of the blanket that covered "Emily's" body.

Under the blankets, the changeling began to move. Its arms stretched, in a perfect baby-like gesture, and its eyes opened sleepily. But one look in its eyes told Sarah the truth once and for all. Emily's eyes had been a dark brown, but these were a deep emerald green, almost black. And though it looked and moved like a baby, in its eyes Sarah could see that it was far older than it seemed to be. Older, and nowhere near as innocent. The changeling opened its mouth, and for a second Sarah expected to see hideous, sharp teeth...

But instead, it began to cry. Still, this was almost as shocking to Sarah as teeth would have been - Emily almost _never_ cried. She was quiet through-and-through. But this thing was crying, wailing, now it was _screaming_, a practically inhuman sound, a mixture of the wailing of a cat and a strange gurgling. It kicked the blankets off from its body, and wriggled wildly, looking so uncomfortable that it reminding her of a beetle stuck on its back. To see something that half looked like Emily do this... it made her sick to her stomach. Unable to watch anymore she walked out of the room, closing the door firmly behind her, though it only muffled the awful screaming sound.

Now she knew what she was fighting, it was time to learn how to fight it.

--

It was around half-past three in the morning (still no sign of Holly - Michael must have been more than just a pretty boy, it seemed), and Sarah had finally finished all the research she could do. Changelings, it seemed, were common across the world, but there were comparatively few ways to be rid of them. There were several obscure stories about brewing beer with eggshells and acorns - Sarah didn't know the first thing about brewing beer, or why this would help, not to mention the fact that it sounded just too obscure to be real.

Of course, there were all the usual ways one could repel some type of fairy, such as iron, salt, rowan and garlic. Or she could simply toss the changeling on a fire. But, despite what it had done, Sarah didn't want to _hurt_ the changeling. It was a baby as well, just not a human baby. And it looked so much like Emily that she knew she never _could_ bring herself to harm it, even if she wanted to. But there was another way, one that seemed relatively painless to all parties: if somebody could make a changeling laugh, then it would be taken back to its true home, and the original baby returned.

"Easier said than done," Sarah grumbled. The baby was still screaming in the other room. Laughter seemed a bit of a stretch at the moment.

Sarah cursed at Jareth under her breath. She didn't know how he was doing this, or why he was messing around with changelings all of a sudden, changing his modus operandi, or why he was doing it at all, but she'd be damned if she was going to let him get away with it. And she would face him prepared.

She'd taken the time to change her clothes, for a start. After putting on a clean pair of jeans, she'd toyed with the idea of putting on the white shirt that had seen her through her last Labyrinth adventure, but decided against it. Jareth needed to see that she wasn't a little girl anymore. So it was back to the outfit that had become her staple nowadays: the white t-shirt, the black leather jacket. It wasn't exactly an original get-up, but it made her feel more adult, more confident, tougher.

She'd also taken the time to put on a pendant she'd picked up in a thrift store a few years ago - an small iron horseshoe, which she hid under her shirt. Iron and horseshoes were both said to resist fairy magic, and it couldn't hurt to have it on her, especially considering she drew the line at filling her pockets with salt and garlic from the kitchen. As an afterthought, she also pulled on a couple of bracelets and rings, in case she ran into Hoggle once again.

She didn't feel like Sarah Williams the actress anymore, but she didn't feel like her childhood self either. She felt... purposeful. Different. New. It wasn't altogether unpleasant. And now, it was time to go and make a baby laugh.

...As she had thought, it was easier said than done.

Sarah tried every trick in the book, everything that had ever amused Emily or Toby. Funny faces, peek-a-boo - the changeling remained the epitome of a tough crowd. She progressed to jokes, from knock-knocks, to three-men-in-a-pub, to a couple of more risqué ones that she felt positively perverted telling to some kind of baby... but if the changeling understood them, it showed no sign of it. It just carried on screaming.

Just when she felt like she was about to cry from frustration, Sarah remembered a movie she'd seen in the cinema a couple of years ago, one that she'd loved: _Who Framed Roger Rabbit_. There was a scene where the hero defeated some bad guys by making them laugh themselves to death, and the form of comedy that had worked best? Slapstick.

Well, was she an actress or wasn't she? It couldn't hurt to try.

Sighing, Sarah gave the appearance of giving up, and started to walk out of the room. But on the way, as though sliding on an invisible banana skin, she tripped, and fell flat on her back. She tried to get up, but only fell back again with an even louder thump.

In the crib, the changeling stopped screaming.

Sucking in her breath, Sarah seemed to use all of the energy in her body to practically hurl herself up from the ground, only she took it too far. Upon getting to her feet, she was unable to stop herself from careening forward, right into the wall.

With her face pressed against the wallpaper, her lips mouthing a silent prayer that this would work, Sarah couldn't see it - but the changeling smiled.

Staggering around, Sarah made her way back to the crib, her walk uneven and disorientated, her arms stretched out in front of her like some kind of zombie. She kept on walking, and her hands went straight through the bars of the crib. She tried to pull them out, but it seemed they were stuck fast. She pulled again and again, shouting and huffing and puffing, but it seemed nothing could pry them loose. She moved her head in for a closer look and, misjudging the distance, hit her forehead squarely against the edge of the crib. A few seconds of dizzy looks and crossed eyes, and Sarah sunk down to the floor, her hands now sliding easily from the bars, seemingly unconscious due to her own clumsy ministrations.

And now she kept her eyes tightly shut, hoping against all odds that the course on mime she took last autumn, and years of watching Saturday morning cartoons, had been enough. She counted the seconds of silence - five, ten...

Then laughter filled the room. If the sound could be _called_ laughter.

It was just as disconcerting as the screaming had been, just as clearly not human. On one level it was the laughter of a hysterical baby, on another the cackle of a witch, at once a low chuckle and a high-pitched giggle. Sarah got to her feet, her face ashen with fear, watching the changeling convulse in glee. It seemed twice as wild as it had when it had screamed. In fact, now it was shaking so fast that it almost looked as though – as though _steam_ was rising from its body.

Around Sarah, the bedroom seemed to shift, as though parts of it were melting. Or as though it was a photograph that someone was rippling up and down in their hands. More and more steam rose from the changeling, which now seemed lost to madness, and other noises began to join the frightening laughter, though she couldn't pick out any single one of them. Her head started to feel heavy, dizzy, and even blinking her eyes didn't help. She felt like she was going to throw up, faint, perhaps both at the same time - but she wasn't going to let this beat her. She was going bring Emily back, no matter what.

With her last ounce of strength, she reached out and grabbed hold of the changeling's arm. Now the room was still shifting, but she wasn't trapped in it anymore. She was fading away and leaving it behind her. The changeling was returning to where it had come from, and Sarah was hitching a ride. The room gave one final shudder, and everything went black...

--

It might have been seconds or hours later, but when Sarah next opened her eyes she found that she was standing in the open air. It took a minute to adjust to the light, but when she did, she could make out the breathtaking scenery before her. The land rolled into the distance, into forests, strange shaped buildings, mountains, waning into a dusky sky. It was like something out of a dream, familiar to anyone who had ever read a fairy tale. But the Underground was more familiar to Sarah than most.

Five years since she had last been here, and now she had returned.

She heard a slight rustling behind her, and could not stop herself from giving a little, smug smile. So Jareth expected her to turn and beg for mercy in his presence, did he? He expected to surprise her? Impress her? He could think again. She took a moment to steady herself. She had defeated him once, she could do it again. She just had to keep a level head.

Closing her fists in determination, she spun around to face her enemy. "Just what do you think you're playing at, Ja-"

But the name of the Goblin King died in her mouth, just as all her steely determination drained from her body.

The man facing her was clearly not human. Tall, clad in black, he gave off the inexplicable aura of the otherworldly, and had a strange kind of handsomeness about him. A strong jaw-line defining an otherwise almost-delicate face, piercing grey-green eyes and golden hair. Had his smile not been so mischievous, so arrogant, he would have seemed practically angelic. Emily lay in his arms, looking impossibly small.

He belonged to the Underground, and he had stolen Emily. But he was not Jareth. In fact, judging from his slightly surprised expression, he didn't know who Sarah was at all.

"_Well_," he laughed, his voice clear and steady. "What do we have here?"

Sarah couldn't respond. All her bravado had been knocked out of her. She merely gulped.

This was _not_ what she had been expecting.

--

AN: The title of this chapter comes from "_The Stolen Child_" by Yeats. The other poems quoted are: "_The Changeling_" by Charlotte Mew, "_The Changeling_" by James Russell Lowell, "_The Fairy Boy_" by Samuel Lover and "_The Fairy Child_" by John Anster.

A long chapter this time... with a bit of a cliffhanger! Jareth's not behind this? Bet you weren't expecting that. Who is this strange man? What does he want with Emily? What's Sarah going to do now that she's back in the Underground? Tune in next time for answers to all these questions and more!

A massive thank you to all of you who have been reading, and especially to those of you who've reviewed and left me some kind words or useful advice. I really appreciate it, especially the advice, because it's helping my writing a lot! I hope you're still enjoying the story - and don't worry, our favourite Goblin King won't let Sarah steal the show for much longer!


	5. A World Of Trouble

**CHAPTER 5: A WORLD OF TROUBLE**

Time seemed to freeze as Sarah and the strange man locked eyes. She knew she should do something, anything, but speech was not forthcoming, and any plans of action had been driven from her mind by shock. She had thought she was so smart, so well-prepared, so ready to face the Goblin King... but the man in front of her, holding on to baby Emily, was most definitely not Jareth. And yet this most definitely _was_ the Underground. Who was he? What did he want with her? And, more importantly, how was she going to defeat him?

"If you could kindly state your name, girl," the amusement he had shown at her arrival had quickly faded away to a brisk, business-like manner. "I haven't got all day." In his arms Emily shifted slightly, but the man paid the child no heed, instead he remained focused on Sarah, looking her up and down.

In response to the look he gave her, Sarah took a moment to survey him in turn once again. Above anything else, she wanted to be doubly sure that the man was not Jareth in some new disguise.

But she soon dismissed such a notion. No, he was too different for that to be true. Any similarities were superficial. This man's hair was short, slightly curled, well-kept and a deep gold in comparison to Jareth's wild, fair mane. His eyes were not mismatched, but both a light, misty green. His features were well-defined, but not angular - instead there was something curiously soft about them, as though you were perpetually regarding him in flickering candlelight. A long black cloak wrapped around him, hiding the rest of his body from view.

The softness of his features made him seem angelic. But his sneering, pouting mouth, his clipped, supercilious accent, and his false politeness all made it plain to Sarah that he was anything but. She wouldn't give him her name. And she didn't care if that meant she didn't receive his in return. She was only here on one mission.

"Give me the child." The words came naturally to Sarah, but they were little more than a whisper, and were half blown away by the cold wind. As it moved through the trees in the distance they seemed to whisper, and she couldn't help but give a small shudder. From here the Underground looked wild, an arid, desolate place.

The man raised his eyebrows, apparently stunned. "I beg your pardon?"

_"Give me the child."_ Her tone was bolder this time, her fists clenched. Any feelings of fear she pushed aside, focusing entirely on the task at hand.

Intimidation could work both ways.

...Or perhaps it couldn't. For, after watching Sarah's attempt at taking charge, the man simply threw back his head and laughed.

"My my, such stern words from such a pretty face!" As he smiled, Sarah's first impression that he was almost angelic came back to her - with his pale complexion and golden hair, he looked kind, a man to be trusted, a man who could do no wrong. It was silly to be so afraid of him, wasn't it? Hadn't she made plenty of friends in the Underground when she was here last?

But then his laughter stopped abruptly, and the mask of friendliness slipped away too. His mouth twisted into a queer, cruel sneer, his eyes were cold and glinting as he spoke in the steeliest of tones. "You presume to give commands to me?"

"I..." Shaking her head, Sarah quickly pulled herself together. "You left a changeling in her place."

"A changeling? What changeling?" The man was suddenly the picture of innocence, and again Sarah's certainty was thrown. But, luckily for her, at that moment there was a slight rustling from one of the bushes to her left. Both Sarah and the man turned sharply, startled, to look at what was making the noise - a pair of bright green eyes glinted in the dark, and a small, hairy, brown creature shuffled out, wringing its hands together and gurgling apologetically. The changeling.

The man sighed and rolled his eyes, which the creature seemed to take as a sign to scurry back into the darkness, squeaking in fear. "Ah. _That_ changeling. How perceptive of you."

For someone who wasn't Jareth, the man was doing a good job at being equally full of himself.

"I made it laugh," Sarah's voice was steady now that his guilt was certain. "I made it laugh, and it came back here, so you have to return the child to me. Those are the rules."

His voice became suddenly as soft as his features as he fixed her with an almost quizzical expression. "Those are _old_ rules, my dear. Very old rules..." He paused for a moment, before changing again in a flash, his curious face melting back to an arrogant one, his voice now at once amused and thoroughly nonchalant. "So you went through all that bother just to bring back this scrawny bundle of joy? A mother's love is blind, I suppose."

As he squinted dismissively at Emily, Sarah thought briefly about correcting him in his assumption that she was the mother, but decided against it. The less he knew, the better. She simply repeated her demand: "Give back the child."

He ignored her completely. "But the question is, little mother, how on earth did you surmise that the creature in the cradle was, in fact, a changeling? How did you recall those pesky, tired old rules?"

"I read a lot."

"How _fascinating_." Though his bored look said that it was anything but.

"Give her to me."

"And so, my little, well-read mother," he continued to ignore her, "you thought to brave the unknown horrors of the Underground to rescue your darling daughter? Some might call that foolish."

"Or brave," she retorted quickly, struggling to keep her temper in check. "Who _are_ you?"

He smirked. "Oh, I think we've passed the point of pleasant introductions, don't you?"

"Put the child back where you found her." Then, before he could ignore her once again, Sarah decided to take a chance. _"You have no power over me."_

The declaration sounded charged with something, the words potent as they fell from her mouth. They left a chilled silence in their wake, much like the silence that had fallen when she had first met her new opponent. The man cocked his head, eyes narrowed, expression unreadable.

"Rules are rules..." His voice had an eerie, sing-song quality to it. Holding Emily firmly in one arm, he raised the other upwards, fingers flexing slightly, as though testing the air. Sarah waited with baited breath, waited to see what he would do - and was slightly disappointed when he merely clicked his fingers together. But, as if on cue, the air surrounding the still-sleeping baby began to shimmer, like the haze of a desert. Sarah recognised it as a smaller version of what had just happened back in her New York apartment. Emily seemed to fade bit by bit, like some sort of ghost... Sarah blinked, and the child was gone.

She couldn't help but give a small, satisfied smile. Another creature of the Underground defeated. Sarah Williams: 2, Creepy Fairy Men: 0. Emily was safe, and Holly would never know how close her daughter had been to disappearing off the face of the earth. And Sarah could rest easy knowing for certain that she had no reason to be scared of the pitiful threats of wayward fairies. She could dream safe, empty dreams now, back in her own bed, in her own apartment...

...Except, she realised, she was not in New York. She was still in the Underground. And the mysterious man was still standing before her, a lurid grin on his face.

--

_The sun was just beginning to weave its way through the city skyscrapers as Holly turned her key in the apartment door. Judging by the time of her return, the night had definitely been a successful one._

_Poking her head in, she sung out a greeting, "Honey, I'm home!"_

_No answer. But that didn't worry Holly. It was way too early for anyone half-way normal to be up yet. She was only up at the crack of dawn because last night's date, Michael, had turned out to be a bit of a fitness-freak, who liked to go for his early morning run while most of New York was still tucked up in bed. Not that Holly really minded - she was used to getting up at all hours to check on her baby daughter. And besides, Michael had kissed her goodbye, and promised to call her soon. If the price of having a brilliant night with a proper gentleman was being an early bird, Holly was happy to pay it in full._

_Tiptoeing into Emily's room, Holly took a moment to check on the girl. She was sleeping soundly, but she must have kicked the blankets off in the night, because they were all bunched up at the bottom of the crib. Holly tucked her in again, kissing her softly on the cheek. A quick look around the room for Mister Jumbo found the stuffed elephant discarded on the floor. He was slipped carefully back in his proper place next to the baby, and Emily's little arm reached around unconsciously to hug him._

_Certain that her daughter was safe and sound, Holly padded softly out of the bedroom, going to check on her roommate. Quietly, in case she was still asleep, Holly opened Sarah's door._

_A trunk lay open in the middle of the room. There were books all over the place, on the bed, the chairs, the floor - and all of them wide open, revealing old cursive writing and strange illustrations. On her dressing table Sarah's jewellery lay in a muddled heap, as though the drawer had been emptied in a hurry. The clothes she had been wearing when Holly said goodbye to her the previous night had been kicked into a crumpled heap in the corner._

_"Christ, what happened here, Sarah? Did the IRA mark you out as a bomb target?"_

_No answer. Holly reached up and flicked the light on._

_"Sarah?"_

_Again, no answer. But now Holly could see that the bed was empty. And, judging by the pristine state of the sheets, it had not been slept in._

_Suddenly, a faint cry came from somewhere else in the apartment. Quick as a flash, Holly raced to the source of the noise. But it was only baby Emily, who had woken and was fretting about something. There was no sign of Sarah. Picking the child up, Holly shushed her quietly, though her efforts had little effect. Looking up, she squinted at the sunlight that was gleaming into the room. Walking towards the light, Holly realised that not only were the curtains drawn, but the window was wide open._

_With a jolt, she remembered how Sarah always double-checked that the windows were closed._

_In the pale light of the morning, cradling her baby, Holly Greaves felt very young, very scared, and very alone._

--

The man took a step towards Sarah, with his arms outstretched, no longer burdened with Emily. "And now, lost little mother, why don't we get to know each other better?"

Sarah stepped back as he advanced, "You have to send me home!"

"Do I?" he questioned with false incredulity. "But why would I want to do that? These commands of yours are growing a trifle tiresome. There are no rules that say I must return _you_. You came here of your own accord. I'm afraid you're in a world of trouble, dear."

There was something about his nonchalant manner that chilled Sarah to the bone. As she looked again at the surrounding area, her worst fears were confirmed: she was trapped. The land was, for the most part, a blank and desolate canvas, except for a forest in the distance - but the nameless man stood between her and any shelter she might find there. There was nowhere to hide, and no point in running, for she had no doubt any more that the man was not even remotely human. Another snap of his fingers and she could be dead - or worse. And now he was almost within touching distance of her, with a mischievous grin little better than a leer, like a shark surveying its prey.

Desperately, Sarah attempted to cling to the 'rules' of the Underground that had guided her so far. There must be something that could stop this man, some catch, some loophole. "I only took back what was taken!"

"No doubt. But I'm really rather put out by all of this. You've just lost me a perfectly good baby."

The reminder of the loss of Emily seemed to touch a nerve within him. He moved again towards Sarah, this time with purpose in his narrowed eyes. She stumbled backwards, and as she did, she felt something heavy beat against her chest. Instinctively, her hand came to her neck, and then she remembered what it was - the horseshoe amulet she'd put on before she left her apartment.

Without stopping to think, Sarah grabbed hold of the necklace and pulled it sharply away from her neck, feeling the thin chain snap. Standing her ground, she held the now broken chain in her fist before her, the horseshoe charm dangling down, willing it to work. "Don't come any closer."

The man, now so near to Sarah that he could grab her at any moment, only smiled and reached out his hand. But, to Sarah's surprise, the horseshoe began to shudder violently. Then its colour started to change, the dull grey bubbling into a bright orange. Sparks began to fly, as though it was some tiny Catherine Wheel. In an instant, the cool iron had become white hot.

Pulling his hand away as though he'd been burnt, the man glared incredulously at Sarah. "You little _bitch_!" In the fiery light, his soft golden hair appeared to glow like flame, his skin eerily pale.

"Stay away from me."

"How _dare_ you-"

"You're not going to touch me."

"Do you really imagine you could prevent me?"

Sarah hesitated, but only for a moment. "Try anything, and I'll stick this in your face."

Her adversary curled his lip as if about to snarl a retort, but then his features suddenly relaxed into a self-satisfied expression of amusement. "Dawn might be breaking in your world, but here it's quite the opposite." He stepped to the side, and gestured to the view behind him. Above the forest in the distance, the sky was growing dim. The sun was setting. "Aren't you out late, little mother?"

"What do you mean by that?" Sarah asked, suspiciously.

"Only that the night is, after all, a time of _magic_," he replied. "All the strange creatures come out to play, rules are broken, and any hopes of protection fall to the wayside." Raising his hand once more, he flicked the horseshoe with a single finger. Again, sparks rose furiously from the charm, and he was forced to step back, but this time he was laughing. "I'm afraid your pretty knick-knacks won't save you after dark."

"You're bluffing."

"Am I? Oh, my dear, what's the point of trading words with you now? I can easily wait a few minutes."

Sarah began to realise that it wasn't just the light that was fading fast - the man was fading too, inch-by-inch, disappearing into nothingness. "Run if you like, little mother. But you won't get far before the sun sets."

His pale flesh had all but melted away into the air, and he seemed semi-transparent now, except for his smile, which continued to smirk at her like that of some bizarre Cheshire Cat. "I'll be seeing you..."

With a final laugh he was gone, his name and purpose still unstated. Physically, Sarah was alone, but she was sure he was still watching her.

Watching, and waiting for the inevitable sunset.

She had to move quickly, and there was only one place to move to. Hastily stuffing the necklace into the pocket of her jeans, Sarah broke into a run, heading straight for the forest. She knew full well that all a manner of dreadful creatures might be waiting for her in there, but anything was better than standing here, out in the exposed open. Maybe, just maybe, she might be able to find a way to escape under the darkness of the trees.

The second she entered the forest it seemed to close behind her, just as she remembered from her previous journey in the Underground. There was no turning back now. Sarah was forced to continue running deeper and deeper into the trees as they shifted around her, running wherever there was light to see by, willing herself not to trip or falter. But soon the trees became dark, ominous shapes, all hint of greenery gone, and she was running blind - though whether this darkness was due to the leaves thickening above her or the sunset, Sarah couldn't say.

Something was behind her now. She could hear the noise of its heavy movement, the rustling of leaves as it pushed them aside. She felt dizzy as she remembered her dream from the night before, where the terrible, growling creature had pursued her. It was happening again, and this time it was real. A stray branch scratched her cheek, drawing blood, but she continued to run. Now she could hear the babbling and giggling of invisible Underground creatures around her, laughing as they watched her plight. Somewhere behind her, she could hear the strange man's laughter joining their unearthly chorus.

Suddenly, Sarah remembered what had happened at the end of her dream - the terrible fall into nothingness.

But the memory came too late, just as she tripped and tumbled into some unseen hole in the ground. Blindly, she stretched out her arms to hold on to something, but could only feel loose earth that gave away beneath her fingers. She tried not to scream, but she couldn't help but let out a cry. She was not Alice, and this fall would not lead to Wonderland. Any second now she'd hit the ground, any second now every bone in her body would shatter...

But what Sarah felt next was not what she expected.

Rather than hard, bone-breaking earth, she landed into what felt like a canopy of leaves. 'Landed' is perhaps not entirely the right word - she continued to fall, but now it was less of a plummet and more of a slow toppling, as branch after branch cracked beneath her. She was forced to cover her face with her hands to stop an eye being poked out by a stray twig, but the brute force of her fall had been broken. With a final yelp, and the final snap of a branch, Sarah landed on solid ground.

Luckily her hands had been out to brace her, and whilst she was sore and covered in dirt, she didn't think anything was broken. Breathing deeply, she pushed her body up from the ground, forcing herself to stand. Looking up to see where she had fallen from, she was startled to see nothing but a solitary oak tree, large, twisted and very old, but a single tree nevertheless, with the open sky above it. Where was the dark hole in the earth she had fallen through?

"I must have concussion," she muttered, shaking her head. But the scenery did not change. There was still only this one tree, and no sight or sound of the forest, or of her terrible pursuer.

Thankfully, it seemed the sun had not quite set yet, and a faint dusky light still clung to the world. Turning around, Sarah saw that yet another desolate landscape surrounded her, but whilst the one before had been almost utterly empty, there was some slight semblance of life here, however faint. Spindly, thorny plants decorated with tiny white flowers stretched out across the ground, tendril-like. Here and there withered, haunted-looking trees stood in twos and threes, stripped naked of their leaves. The earth seemed to shift slightly as the wind blew the sandy topsoil into the air. And whilst the land before had been flat, here it rose and fell in uneven hillocks. She thought she could see larger hills in the distance, but it was too dark to make them out properly.

Leaving the oak tree behind, Sarah began to walk briskly. But soon this decision began to seem like a regrettable one. She had no idea where she was, where she was going, or what was waiting out in the Underground to meet her. To cap it all off, the faint light that had given her a glimmer of hope was soon almost totally gone, leaving her alone in the dark.

She could feel her mind begin to wander. Who was that man? Why did he take Emily? What did he plan to do with her? Was he watching her even now?

_Stay focused, Sarah. Just find a place to stay till morning, and then you can get out of here tomorrow. Focus! _But no amount of mental reassurance could stop Sarah from beginning to despair. There was nothing and nobody to help her.

Or was there? An idea formed in her mind. "Hoggle? Ludo? Sir Didymus? Can you hear me?"

But there was no answer. Her friends, if they were even in this place, could not hear her. At this stage in the game, Sarah would have even welcomed an encounter with the Fireys. At least then she'd be on familiar ground.

"Is anybody there?" Sarah could clearly imagine what Holly would say to such a question. _Jesus, Sarah, what kind of idiot are you? That's what the first girl to die in every single fucking horror movie asks!_ The thought of her roommate made Sarah smile, but it didn't deter her. She needed to find her friends, and fast.

"Hoggle? Hoggle can you hear me?"

No answer.

"Any goblins out there?"

Still no answer.

"Is there anyone out there? _Anyone?_ Any—" Not concentrating on where she was placing her feet, Sarah stumbled down a slope, bracing her fall with her hands. She swore loudly. She was getting really, really sick of tripping over things. Gingerly she rose to her feet, trying to inspect her palms in the dark. She thought she could feel a little blood where the skin had broken, but nothing serious.

"This was much easier when I was fifteen," she muttered.

_"Getting rusty in your old age, Sarah?" _The sudden question rang out from somewhere in the darkness behind her.Sarah froze.

She knew that voice.

Fists clenched, she turned to face the sound. It couldn't be. It _shouldn't_ be...

...But it was.

Jareth, the Goblin King, larger than life and in full regalia, was standing behind her. The crystal he held in his hand gave out a flickering light, as though it was full of fireflies. And Sarah could see that he had the same, smug grin on his face that she had come to fear the last time she encountered him.

"_Really_, Sarah," he sighed in mock-exasperation. "If you wanted to see me so badly, all you had to do was ask."

--

A/N: Another cliffhanger... but we're all secretly glad to see Jareth, aren't we?

Because I like to make fanfiction of movies as 'movie-like' as possible, I've picked out an actor to play the mysterious man Sarah faced: the young Jude Law, as he appeared in the movie _Wilde_. Feel free to do an image search on Google for him!

And finally, and most importantly, I'd like to apologise for the incredibly long wait for this update. I lost the spark for the story, and I was caught up with real-life commitments. I will repeat the promise I made in the initial introduction: this story will not be abandoned. I have plenty of plans for it, even if it may take me a while to write them! I hope you enjoy this latest update, and as ever, I would love to receive any feedback.


	6. Enemies Reunited

**CHAPTER 6: ENEMIES REUNITED**

_I should have known._

Inwardly, Sarah was kicking herself for her stupidity. Here she was, trapped in the Underground, completely defenceless, and surprise, surprise, Jareth had finally put in an appearance. He'd obviously been behind the whole thing. Why else would she have been targeted? After five years, he'd devised some new plan to trick her into his clutches once again.

She couldn't help but feel afraid. Here was the man who was not quite a man, who had haunted her in adolescence, terrified her with dreams beyond her imagination, seduced her with promises she had been too young to fully grasp. The sound of his voice, whilst strangely familiar, had made the blood drain from her face, and her hands were ice-cold as she clenched them. What could she say to him? When they had last met she had been only fifteen, still a child. She had grown now, but he, ageless and unchanged, still had the power to frighten her, to make her feel young, inexperienced, and totally out of her league.

Well, she had no intention of letting him realise it. She was an actress through and through, and even if she was anything but fearless, she wouldn't let it show. Standing up straight, squaring her shoulders, she channelled the royal stance of Antigone from the play. Immediately, she felt like she was back on the stage, utterly consumed in her performance, brave and unafraid as a royal princess in the face of danger. A calm confidence rushed through her, dulling her fear. She had defeated Jareth before, and if necessary she would again.

_Piece of cake._

Summoning her strength, she met his gaze, one eyebrow raised coolly in a show of self-assurance. "You again."

To her disappointment, Jareth didn't seem fazed by her words. "Me again, yes." Glancing at the crystal in his hand, he threw it into the air towards Sarah. She instinctively brought her hands up to catch it, but it suddenly stopped in mid-air between them, hovering, and the flickering glow it gave out intensified. With a sideways grin, he stepped closer to Sarah, into the light. "Aren't you pleased to see me?"

"I'm not surprised to see you, if that's what you mean."

"Such cold words after such a long time?" Jareth tutted disapprovingly. "Sarah, you _wound_ me."

His cool familiarity was unnerving, but Sarah swallowed back her nerves. "I'm not in the mood to play games, Jareth."

"Games? I have always treated you with the upmost sincerity."

Before she could stop herself, the tart retort was already out of her mouth. "The upmost arrogance, more like."

"Have a care, Sarah," he tilted his head to one side, expression unreadable, as he walked to stand directly before her. "Careless talk costs lives."

Everything in Sarah's body was screaming at her to move away as he drew near, but she stood her ground. Raising her head slightly, she looked directly into Jareth's eyes. He was mere inches away from her, but she would not show fear. "Are you threatening me?"

At the question, Jareth suddenly burst into laughter. "Why would I threaten you?" Turning his back to her, he paced away again, still laughing - before he froze suddenly, all trace of mirth gone. "It's not as though I would have a reason to threaten you," he spun round to face Sarah once more, his words suddenly sharp. "It's not as though threatening you would be entirely within my rights," he was walking towards her now, his eyes dark. "It's not as though you're a foolish, naive little girl, who is trespassing in my kingdom, and daring to insult me."

Suddenly, his arm shot out, as though he was about to throttle Sarah - but instead, he only grasped her lightly by the throat, tiling her chin up to look into his eyes. "Ah, but _wait_..." he gave a taunting smile. "It seems I _would_ have reason to threaten you, no?"

"You --" Sarah stammered angrily, trying not to panic, "You son of a--" But the words were choked out of her as Jareth suddenly tightened his grip around her neck.

"_Sssh_, Sarah," lifting his other hand, he ran a single gloved finger down her cheek, before pressing it against her lips. "If I were you, I'd watch that pretty little mouth of yours. One careless wish, one throwaway insult, and who _knows_ what might happen?"

"_You have no power over--_" But Jareth's hand squeezed the speech from her yet again.

"No, no, no," he shook his finger with each word. "That won't work this time Sarah. This time, you're in my kingdom without my permission. You're an intruder, a trespasser. The old rules work in my favour. And I'm afraid that that places you in _my_ power. Do you understand?"

Sarah fixed the Goblin King with a glare that could curdle milk, but she gave a slow nod.

"Good," he smiled, and released her from his grip. "Now we can continue this conversation somewhere a little more appropriate."

Raising his hand, he snapped his fingers once. A faint humming instantly became audible, and the light of the crystal ball, which was still hovering in the air, grew brighter and brighter, until it was a brilliant white. Shielding her eyes with her hand, Sarah wanted to question what was happening, but before she had the time the humming stopped unexpectedly.

There was a second of total silence.

And then, without further warning, the ball exploded. As shattered crystal pieces fell into the air, the light that had been trapped inside it spilled out, enveloping Jareth and Sarah in its blinding rays. Closing her eyes, Sarah could feel a wind rushing around her, a sudden coldness in the air, and then... nothing.

She opened her eyes again. _It's pitch black here. No, wait..._ Rubbing her eyes and blinking furiously, Sarah forced her eyesight to adjust. Wherever they were was very dark, but there was a little silver moonlight, streaming through what looked like a hole in... in the ceiling?

"Where are we?" In the darkness, she heard the distinct sound of Jareth snapping his fingers again. Candles spluttered into life about the room, filling it with a hazy glow. Instantly, Sarah realised where they were. "We're in an oubliette, aren't we?"

"Your powers of recognition astound me," Jareth was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed.

"_Why_ are we in an oubliette?" Mirroring his posture, Sarah crossed her arms in front of her in a show of defiance. To her annoyance, Jareth snorted in derision at the gesture.

"What did you expect? That I'd show you to a palatial suite? The lap of luxury, a maid to cater to your every whim?"

Mentally, Sarah had to admit to herself that such treatment sounded like a bad romance novel. The last time she'd been here, she'd bested the Labyrinth, rejected and defeated the Goblin King - he was hardly going to welcome her with open arms, was he? Besides, at least here, in the oubliette, she was on somewhat familiar ground. She would have had no idea how to react if Jareth had suddenly showered her with uncharacteristic hospitality.

_In fact_, she thought, _if he tried to take me to a suite, I'd probably run screaming in the opposite direction._

Taking a deep breath, Sarah steadied herself. "I wasn't trespassing," she said firmly.

"Weren't you?" Seemingly bored by her denial, Jareth flicked an imaginary speck of dust off the silken cuff of his white shirt.

"No," her answer was quick, "I didn't mean to come here."

"And yet you _are_ here," he looked up to face her again. "Which begs the question: _why?_"

"You should know. You were behind the whole thing." The accusation made, Sarah had expected something to happen - some nefarious laughter from Jareth, perhaps, as he admitted to orchestrating Emily's kidnapping in order to lure her here. Or even self-righteous outrage on his part, as he adamantly denied her allegations in mock horror. Instead, there was only silence. Jareth's sole reaction that showed he had even heard her words was a momentary raise of his eyebrows. Thrown, Sarah felt her confidence suffer a momentary jolt. "...Weren't you?"

"It pains me to say that I have no idea what you are talking about, Sarah."

Silence again. Despite herself, Sarah couldn't help but feel an urge to laugh. For all his bravado, Jareth was completely clueless as to why she was here - he hadn't come up with an incredibly intricate plan to trap her after all. She gave a wry smile. "The great Goblin King really has no idea why I'm here, huh?"

Jareth did not seem to respond well to her mirth. In fact, her sly teasing appeared to make him positively livid. "No, Sarah, I do _not_. And I would very much like for you to enlighten me," he rose up from against the wall, and walked to stand in front of her. "_Immediately_." At this he took a deep breath, as though willing himself to keep his temper. When he spoke again his voice was lower, quieter, but still firm: "I don't take kindly to people entering my realm without my permission."

Sarah was unintimidated. "I came to rescue a child."

"Don't tell me you've lost another infant in your care," he rolled his eyes. "That _would_ be careless of you."

"I didn't lose her," she retorted, "she was taken. There was..."

"There was _what?_"

"There was a changeling in her place."

Looking up at Jareth, Sarah was surprised to see a momentary expression of surprise on his face. More than that - it was shock. Time seemed to stand still for a moment. Then, as if realising he was faltering, Jareth moved sharply away from her. "Don't try my patience, girl."

"There was a changeling in-"

"That's impossible!" Jareth's tone was impossible to read, but the words were harshly spoken. Slowly, he turned back again to face Sarah. "That's impossible," he repeated, more calmly.

"It was a changeling, I'm sure of it," she insisted. "I've read about them, I know what they're like."

"You've read fairy stories with pretty pictures, dreamt up by ignorant mortals," he waved a hand dismissively.

"I know what I saw. And I-"

"Assuming it _was_ a changeling," Jareth interrupted, "that still doesn't explain how you ended up in the Underground."

"If you'd let me finish, I _would_ be able to explain it!" At this outburst, Jareth fell silent again, raising his open palms as if in gesture: _Go on_. After nodding sarcastically in thanks, Sarah continued her account of the night's events. "I found stories about how to get rid of a changeling. Some said that if you made a changeling laugh, the spell would be broken, and the human child would be returned. So I managed to make it laugh, and then... everything changed."

"Changed. In what sense?"

"Everything started to shift. The air went all wavy, and I... I sort of... faded away... and then I was in the Underground. And there was a man holding the baby."

"What man?" Jareth's voice was all seriousness, and his sober, quick tone made Sarah hesitate for a moment.

"He... he didn't tell me his name."

"Describe him to me."

"He had golden hair, green eyes, fair skin. About so high-" Sarah held her hand up a little above her head "- and dressed in black. He laughed a lot. He was very full of himself. He reminded me of you, actually."

Looking expectantly at Jareth, Sarah was disappointed to find no show of recognition there after her description of her foe. In fact, his eyes seemed oddly detached, as though he was thinking of something else - but the truth of his expression was unreadable. As though sensing her stare, he became instantly alert once more, and narrowed his gaze. "How flattering. And this man held the child you were looking for?"

"He didn't want to give her up."

To her surprise, Jareth gave a slow, deliberate grin. "I can imagine you had something to say about that."

"Yes," cautiously, Sarah returned his smile for the briefest of moments. "He sent the child back home. But I was still in the Underground."

"The man was not best pleased." It was a statement, not a question.

"No, he wasn't." Sarah considered telling him how she had faced down the strange man, brandishing iron as a weapon, but decided against it. The horseshoe amulet was still hidden safely in the pocket of her jeans, and it could still serve as a useful weapon. She wasn't going to lay all her cards on the table just yet. So, omitting that part of the tale, she skipped ahead in her account: "I ran into a forest, but he chased me. I couldn't see anything, there were branches everywhere-" unconsciously she brought her hand to her cheek to touch the thin scratch one of them had left on her "-and then I fell. I kept falling, and then I landed in... I think I landed in a tree."

"A tree." Another statement, only this time tinged with amusement.

"I know, it sounds ridiculous," she admitted. "But I fell out of the tree, and when I looked up at it, there was nothing else there. Just this old oak tree. It was like I'd landed in it after falling out of thin air."

"And just like that, you were here?"

"Just like that." Biting her lip in thought, Sarah questioned Jareth one more time: "You really knew nothing about it?"

"Sarah, as you well know, I don't make use of changelings," he seemed affronted by the very suggestion.

"Why not?"

"Who needs _changelings_ to steal a baby," he lowered his voice and leaned in towards her, so that their lips were almost touching, "when you have _charm_?"

Sarah felt a blush rising in her cheeks, and quickly fixed her face in an expression of revulsion to hide it, wrinkling her nose in disgust and turning away. Jareth only smirked playfully as he withdrew. Frustrated, hands placed on her hips, Sarah cleared her throat. "So who was that man?"

"If what you say is true," Jareth spoke disinterestedly, as he walked over to the moonlit spot to look up at the sky through the oubliette's opening, "then I highly doubt he was a man."

"Trust me, I'm pretty sure he was male."

"I mean he wasn't _hu_man," Jareth gave her a withering stare, "don't be so obtuse, it isn't becoming."

"I know he wasn't human," Sarah was practically at the point of stamping her foot in frustration, "but what _was_ he?"

No answer from Jareth. Sarah did not appreciate being ignored, and she cleared her throat again. She succeeded in gaining his attention, but perhaps not the attention she wanted - he gave a cattish smile, looking her slowly up and down. "Didn't you miss me, Sarah?"

Sarah's answer was short, simple, and not-so-sweet: "No."

"What a pity," Jareth walked towards her again. Reaching inside the cuff of his shirt, he pulled out a lace handkerchief. Carefully, he wiped it against Sarah's cheek, cleaning the cut she'd gained in the forest. "For my part, it's quite a pleasure to see you again."

"You've got a funny way of showing it," she forced herself not to recoil at the touch of his hand.

"Ah. Yes. I must apologise for my loss of temper earlier," he placed the handkerchief carefully back in its place. "I was quite... surprised... to see you here. I had not expected such a visit. Can you forgive me?"

He held out his hand to her. Warily, Sarah took it with her own in a nervous handshake - but before she could protest, he brought it up to his lips and kissed it softly. Glaring, she snatched it away. Jareth only laughed. "I suggest you get some sleep, Sarah."

"Sleep?" Sarah was incredulous. "I need to go home!"

"Do you really think that wise?" Out of nowhere, Jareth had produced a crystal ball, which he twirled absentmindedly. "This man, whoever he is, might well pursue you there. And besides," he stopped spinning the crystal abruptly, "you and I have so much to catch up on."

"So you're just going to leave me here?!"

"For now," Jareth turned, walking back to stand the thin stream of moonlight, "but I'll be back before you know it." He looked over his shoulder at her one last time. "Aren't you going to cry out that this isn't fair?"

Fuming inwardly, Sarah forced herself to show her maturity with a cool reply. "It might not be fair, but that's just the way it is."

"Quite right," Jareth laughed, raising the crystal above his head. "I _do_ enjoy this new you, Sarah. Try not to pine too much over me."

And before Sarah could snap back at him that out of the two of them _she_ wasn't the pathetic, petty, pining one, Jareth had thrown the crystal into the air, there was another flash of light, and... he was gone.

"Damn it," she muttered under her breath.

Looking around the oubliette, Sarah saw in the candlelight that it was just as she remembered. Cobwebs and chains everywhere, glittering stalactites reaching down from the ceiling - although now that she was taller, she had to be careful not to knock her head against a few of the larger ones. "He could have at least redecorated," she commented to nobody in particular, as she took a step backwards. Something crunched under her foot. Turning round, her eyes widened when she saw that it was a bone from a skeleton. Yelping in horror, she gave it a sharp kick, and it clattered against the far wall.

Sitting down, she drew up her knees and buried her face in them - not out of desperation, but in an attempt to quell the splitting headache she was developing. What could she do? Jareth was right, it would be dangerous to go home without knowing who the strange man was, or what he wanted. The last thing she wanted to do was put Holly or Emily in danger. But did this mean she had to stay here? In an oubliette? Even if Jareth hadn't been behind the changeling, it seemed as though she had still fallen into one of his traps.

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her amulet. The heavy weight of it in her hand comforted her, and her former confidence began to return. _It's not over yet_, she told herself. When Jareth returned, she'd find a way out of this. He didn't scare her. Maybe at the moment he seemed to have power over her, but she could make that change. She'd done it before.

Pulling off her leather jacket, Sarah folded it into a pillow, and curled down on the ground. Sleep seemed like the most sensible option at the moment. Other people might have been too terrified to let their guard down even for a second, but for Sarah the situation felt curiously normal

With the horseshoe still clutched in her hand, she closed her eyes, and drifted off into a dark, dreamless sleep. Whatever plan she would come up with to beat Jareth, it could wait until the morning.

--

AN: A quick update this time, as I couldn't wait to write this scene down. I must apologise for Jareth's behaviour - Sarah's sudden appearance threw him a bit! As you'll see in the next instalment...

Thank you to so much to everyone who kindly took the time to leave a review, it really inspired me to get this chapter out quickly. Any comments on this latest bit of the saga will, as ever, be gratefully received.


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